House of Paddra
by caledon
Summary: AU. Hope is a member of a group of up-and-coming designers, the House of Paddra. When the Academy's Department of Design issued the greatest challenge they had ever faced, will Lightning provide the needed inspiration to help them win? Inspired by Paradise Kiss.
1. Persona Conception

All things considered, what she had been earning from her three jobs weren't nearly as good enough as she'd prefer. Claire Farron stepped out of the tall silver building of CrescEnterprises, an exhale of frustration escaping out of her chest at yet another failed job interview, cursing at the bright sunlight that merrily lit the long walkway that stretched before her. It was past noon, and pedestrian traffic was heavy as people wove their way through the city for lunch. Her stomach's loud growl was swallowed up by the white noise around her as she fingered the lightning bolt pendant that hung from a chain around her neck.

She couldn't stay here. There was nothing for her here.

She took the left set of stairs that led out into Main Street, stomach grumbling again that made her briefly entertain the thought of going into the nearest café on the building at the corner. She curled her lip as she spied a girl in a chocobo costume handing out flyers for said maid café, Claire's blue eyes roaming over the scandalous attire that didn't really cover anything and certainly put 'chocobo' as the last image to come to mind at the sight of the girl. If Claire could swallow her pride and immerse herself in pretending, clothe herself in the cosplay of a sexy chocobo girl complete with preening and tush-shaking and cutesy-voice-speaking as she took orders from customers, she would probably be able to work in that place and maybe able to get by with providing for her and her younger sister better. She grumbled unintelligibly as she walked on, all the while running a hand through the tangled, unkempt mess of pink hair on her head. She'd been told time and again that she ought to make an effort in her appearance—it would land her better paying jobs, she knew—but who really had time for that especially since she'd be expected to maintain that kind of look?

The length of Academia's imposing Main Street sprawled before her, and she quickly got on the conveyor walkway heading southbound, away from the highrise buildings that littered the city's centre. She herself was native to Bodhum, but when monsters became too rampant and overwhelmed the small town, there was nothing to do but make like the rest of the populace and flee, taking nothing but her sister and running for their lives, seeking sanctuary upon the walled city of Academia and trying to make ends meet. How ever welcoming the city was to neighbouring towns that had been beset by monsters, living here was certainly not cheap.

She contemplated monster-hunting as a viable career choice as the conveyor path trudged on at its whopping speed of three kilometres per hour; all residents of any city in the world were required to know how to fend for themselves in case of monster attacks, and she herself was no lightweight when it came to protecting her sister and killing any monsters that had crossed their way. She knew there was much money to be made with trading claws, teeth, hide, and what ever monster parts that came from the hunt, but that would mean leaving Serah behind, and Claire was loathe to do that. All they had left was each other, after all.

Sighing, her gaze rose up to the bright billboards that littered the walls and roofs of the buildings that lined Main Street, advertising the latest in innovative technological weapons and armour mixed up with high fashion. Polished women and men gazed from animated screens amidst fur, metal, rich silks, velvets, leather, and chainmail, some even holding impractical weapons like yoyos and flasks and—was that a giant key? A derisive eyebrow rose over a blue eye as she scoffed, unimpressed at the display, remembering the survival knife Serah had given her for her past birthday. _At least with a knife you know where you stand_, thought Claire, _especially if the business end is pointing away from you_.

Passing along people on the other side of the conveyor walkway, she felt just like a mere speck, lost in the legion of people with places to go. Here and there, kids ran along, more often than not providing entertainment by tripping and falling. She shook her head. _If they keep doing that on these walkways, those accidents are bound to really hurt sooner or later_. Without really seeing, she unconsciously began counting heads as she passed by pedestrians riding the adjacent conveyor belt heading to the direction whence she came, just something to pass the time as she waited to reach the end of the long walkway.

Shrugging, she ran her hands through her hair, muscles flexing as she clenched her fingers through the bright strands. "Whoa—!" a voice beside her passed, and she caught a glimpse of pale hair and glass green eyes from her periphery, the figure carried off in the pathway opposite hers. Suspicion arched on her brow, and she steeled herself to ignore it, keeping her gaze focused straight ahead. _Come on, come on_, she urged the walkway as if that would work in speeding it up. It wouldn't be the first time she'd been propositioned by some stranger, and she knew well enough how to defend herself from another such encounter. Training for monster hunting did have its perks, after all.

She heard footsteps behind her before she heard a voice, the same one that had bellowed earlier. It seemed that he'd immediately switched over to her pathway after he saw her and made that initial exclamation.

"Er, hey, Miss?"

_Oh great, here we go_, she thought, rolling her eyes and proceeded to keep her back turned. She _was_ in need of money, but she wasn't that desperate that she would sell her body for sex.

"Um, excuse me, Miss?" He tried to step in front of her, but she turned, now facing the direction she had come from and riding the walkway backwards. _Persistent little twerp_, she thought. _Can't he take a hint?_

"Please? I just—if I could just—please, Miss, may I look at you?"

Huffing, she rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache incoming. It didn't matter that he sounded polite. That could only be an act, after all, something to entice her to let her guard down and then—bam! Shenanigans would happen.

"Please, Miss? Just one look?"

_Seriously, this guy_, she thought, blowing a raspberry as she turned, the scowl already in place deepening, masking her discomfort, as she felt the weight of his gaze roam her from head to foot. She gave tit for tat, letting her own eyes wander over him as well, and begrudgingly conceded that he wasn't bad looking, eyeing the neatly trimmed layered silver hair, pale green eyes, a straight nose and thin lips. He was a bit taller than her, lean and slender, an arm over a shoulder holding garment bags by their hangers.

"Whoa. Perfect," mumbled the stranger. He took a step back, swallowing, a hand rising over his mouth as he took a shaky breath.

She couldn't help finding his behaviour strange. And were those tears in his eyes? What the hell?

"You're perfect," he repeated in an awed whisper.

Something in her chest went twang at those words, but she quickly snuffed the feeling down. Her blue eyes narrowed, and she would've swung her fist if he wasn't so quick to voice out, "Would you be interested in modeling?"

There was no helping the air of suspicion over this situation, causing her hackles to further rise in alarm.

_Modeling?_ she thought, incredulous. _Is he for real?_

The young man waved his free arm as though to display how harmless he was, his face a picture of perfect innocence. "Please, hear me out? Just a moment of your time. No funny business here, I swear!"

She pursed her lips, keeping her expression frozen in place to keep him on his toes.

He nodded over his shoulder, indicating that they were at the end of the moving walkway and he stepped off, her following behind at a reasonable distance as he led her towards the middle of the bridge that connected the paths between New Town and Grand Avenue.

She couldn't help but accept the fact that in this place, he was giving her a way out if what he had to say made her uncomfortable enough; it would be easy for her to run in either direction and get lost in the labyrinthine streets.

"Okay, so, um," he began, "I'm a student at the Academy. Department of Design. My name's Hope Estheim. Oh, um, here." He reached into the inside pocket of his coat, pulling out a business card and handing it to Claire. She took it without looking, keeping her eyes trained to him.

He pointed to the card. "That's my group. House of Paddra."

"Prada?" she finally voiced, frowning.

He chuckled. "No, no. We get mistaken for them a lot. Paddra. Shuffle the letters a bit and add an extra D. Paddra. Like the ancient ruins over at Yaschas Massif?"

"O-kay."

"So, um, we have a school project. It's a great honour too, and it's a chance for us to show what we're capable of. So, the uh, Princess of Dalmasca commissioned the school for an outfit, a warrior princess type of outfit, and we need a model. And you look like the very one we need." His expression became earnest. "So, would you be interested in being our model?"

Model? Her? For an outfit fit for the Princess of Dalmasca?_ This is just a load of bollocks, isn't it?_

Her mouth began to form the word to decline, and seeing this, he actually fell to his knees in front of her, startling her and making her step back.

"Oh, please? Of course we'll pay you! It _is_ an actual job, a proper one, and our group _is_ a business, after all. We do sell what we make. And we also take orders and commissions for clothing and weapons and accessories, so we really do have money to pay! I swear I'm not pulling your leg!" He began to sound desperate, and she looked around, incensed that the two of them were beginning to attract spectators.

"Calm down," she whispered sharply, grabbing him by the elbow and pulling him up to drag him off to the side away from the growing crowd. _What am I doing?_ she asked herself. _Am I seriously contemplating this?_

He hadn't stopped talking though as he followed along. "You just model what we make and walk down the catwalk when it's time to show our creation off. If you're willing to also model our other products and have your picture taken for advertisements, you'll obviously get a sizeable earning from these as well. And, who knows, this could also be a good opportunity to get other modeling jobs, you know? Start you off for other fashion houses?"

She chewed the inside of her cheek. It sounded good, but a little too good to be true. But still...

"What did you say your group is called again?"

"House of Paddra. I don't really have a portfolio on hand, but, oh, um, here." He brought his arm around that held the garment bags over his shoulder, and slung them over his arm, unzipping one of the bags. Inside was a black leather coat, hooded, with a long zipper running down the front. "I'm actually on my way to deliver these to our customers." He looked at her expectantly, and she stared, eyes darting back and forth between the garment and him.

"It's..." she hesitated, at a loss, settling finally with: "Nice, I guess."

He sent her a disarming smile. "It looks like an ordinary coat, yeah?"

"Mm."

"We call this style 'Organization XIII.' And it's more about its function that its looks, really. It _is_ leather, but the lining is composed of a special material that I had to create from scratch myself." His cheeks flushed, green eyes lit with delight and pride as he further explained. "My job in our studio is as engineer and inventor. Whatever our head designer illustrates and decides material-wise, it's up to me to figure out just how feasible the kind of material is for that purpose and try to make it work. I also work closely with our designated blacksmith in creating weapons and accessories. Our group specializes in combat clothing, so what ever we make has to be durable and has to enable fluid movement and not be constrictive. This particular coat is commissioned to have the function of protecting its wearer from darkness."

"Darkness?" asked Claire, interested despite herself.

"Yeah. They're performers, and part of their act is to disappear into a Corridor of Darkness at the end. Wearing this coat will protect them from attracting monsters called Heartless who dwell in that darkness."

"Huh."

"Their band is called Flurry of Dancing Flames, you should see their act some time. Pretty good music. And I'm not just saying that because one of them is my cousin."

She couldn't help breathing out a chuckle. _I'm done for, aren't I?_ she thought, feeling a minuscule fluttering at the pit of her belly. She couldn't help but admit to herself that this Hope guy was charming and a bit cute, and she rather liked that he was passionate about his work and unafraid to show it, drawing her in with his enthusiasm and knowledge. Perhaps being around that dedication meant she would be in good hands. She could trust him, couldn't she?

An earnest beeping erupted out of his coat, and he floundered around the numerous pockets with one hand while the other tried to hold on to the garment bags that threatened to slip from his arm. Taking pity on him, she took the bags from him, hearing his relieved mumbled thanks as he found the contraption that was making the racket and pressed the phone to his ear. Looking down at what she held, she briefly ran a hand over the material of the black coat called 'Organization XIII', admiring the texture of the fabric and its stylish seams before zipping it back inside the bag.

"Hey—I know, I know. I'm already on the way—Yes! I'll be there before you know it. No, I didn't bring my teleporter—why? Because it's risky. We sacrificed a lot of hideous scarves to see if it worked, and well, let me just say it's good that we chose to experiment with inanimate objects...I said—I'm on the walkway, can't you see me? Well, then you need to get your eyes checked—Okay, alright already. Bye."

He heaved a sigh and glanced sidelong at her sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

"It's not a problem," answered Claire, handing the bags back to Hope.

Awkward silence fell between them, pregnant with hints and possibilities of what could be. She cleared her throat, but no words were forthcoming; she really was at a loss. On the one hand, she couldn't help but be curious of what could happen were she to accept the job he was offering. It couldn't be that hard, right? Just put on the clothes, strike a pose, have her picture taken, walk down the runway. And then done. It was a job, hopefully one that would pay better than her other current jobs. This would really be for Serah anyway.

And, well...to work with this guy Hope wouldn't really be a bad thing. He seemed nice, after all. And nothing had to happen between them. Not that she was entertaining any thoughts along that matter. Who had time for that anyway?

"So, um..." He scratched the back of his head. "Why don't you think the offer over?"

She shrugged, giving off an air of nonchalance. "I supposed it wouldn't hurt to consider it."

A smile stretched on his lips, and the flush that suffused his cheeks seemed to spread to his ears. "Would you be willing to consider it over coffee?"

To her mortification—that she immediately brushed off as though nothing had happened—her stomach chose that moment to growl for attention.

He chuckled. "Or lunch?"

Her lips pursed as she eyed him, telling herself that those puppy dog eyes of his certainly weren't getting to her. No sirree.

"My treat, since I asked."

On the other hand, to turn down an offer of food...

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" countered Claire as she made a show of checking her watch. "You're obviously late for an appointment, and it looks like I've been keeping you."

A funny little smile lingered on his lips. "Well, if you say yes, I might show you a way I can get around that."

She fought so hard not to reply with an almost playful tone. She SO WAS NOT flirting with him. She just did not do that kind of thing. But it seemed she couldn't help peering at him from beneath her lashes and quipping, "Don't tell me you lied about bringing your teleporter."

Hope threw his head back as he laughed. "Maybe I got something better." He wiggled his eyebrows, patting the bags slung over his arm. "Do you trust me?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that? You don't even know my name."

"Well, you don't seem comfortable enough to give it." He bit his lip, eyeing the pendant at the base of her neck. "For now, would it be alright to call you Miss Lightning?"

She resisted the urge to touch said pendant. "I suppose just Lightning will do fine."

_This is good, isn't it? He doesn't know my name, therefore no strings attached. No commitment expected_.

"So is that a yes to lunch? After delivering these, of course. Would that be fine with you?"

_And here it is_, she thought. _Yes or no? Claire would say no. But Lightning...what would she say?_

* * *

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy belongs to Square Enix. Kingdom Hearts belongs to Square Enix and Disney.

A/N: yay for new fic! And more yay because I was actually inspired to write and I'm just happy to be writing ANYTHING at all and I've been floundering around all these months of not being able to continue my WIPs because of goddamn writer's block.

Anywho this fic has been brewing in my mind for a while now ever since Square Enix released those pictures of FF13 characters wearing Prada (the title is actually a play on words for that fashion house ;P ), and then there's the whole customizable outfits for Lightning in Lightning Returns (and ohmygod some of them are hideous, seriously wtf). Plus I've been a longtime fan of Paradise Kiss, so this fic is a happy blend of things I love.

Thanks for reading :)  
Sept/2013


	2. In Potentia

Hope's method of getting to his clients fast consisted of each of them donning two of the three coats and accessing the Corridor of Darkness. Not exactly teleporting, but still faster than riding the conveyor walkways and running through the campus to get to the Academy's Department of Music building, climbing three flights of stairs and trotting through several winding hallways to reach the classroom that was agreed to serve as the meeting place.

And so they emerged from the Corridor of Darkness to meet surprised faces—which was only to be expected, really, as they'd interrupted Flurry of Dancing Flames mid-rehearsal. The band immediately set their instruments aside and excitedly scattered haphazardly on the desks of the classroom, hollering greetings as they did so.

A quick introduction had Claire meeting Noel Kreiss, a brunet with blue eyes, apparently House of Paddra's designated blacksmith and sometime session musician, playing with Flurry of Dancing Flames during live performances. The remaining three males were the actual members that made the band: Demyx Proulx, a blond whose head was shaved at the sides, the remaining hair gelled up over his head with three strands falling over his forehead, seemingly an easy-going and happy-go-lucky guy; Lea Tiernan, green-eyed, tall and lanky, with his spiky red hair slicked back from his forehead, somehow reminding her of a porcupine; and Riku Crescent—the last the cousin Hope had mentioned to her earlier, and it would be hard not to notice the family resemblance between the two what with the green eyes and silver hair, although the musician wore his long, past his shoulders, and with his shaggy bangs falling over his eyes.

Claire felt their curiosity over her presence with Hope settle in the air almost palpably, and a susurrus of questions erupted out of them with Hope holding up his hands, easily directing them to voice their queries after he finished with the presentation.

And so, with the newly-christened 'Lightning' assisting, Hope proceeded with a demonstration of the coats' functions to the clients.

Earlier, during their journey, the two had agreed that this would be considered payable, a trial period of sorts, since she would be marketing a House of Paddra product—even if she hadn't exactly agreed to starting a modeling career right then and there. Food and gil were still things she'd be a fool to turn her back on, and so she squared her shoulders inside the slightly big coat and soldiered on with what was required of her to acquire them.

"The matching gloves," Hope was saying as he held up his gloved hands, "have sensors at the fingers and palms that connect with your nerves. These basically act as the transmitter for messages about the doorway to the Corridor of Darkness that's coming from your brain. That's all that these sensors have been programmed to do, and that's all they'll be able to read. Now, when you think something along the lines of 'I need to access the Corridor of Darkness,' wave your hand at the direction or place where you want it to appear—Lightning, if you please, thank you—and voilà! Instant doorway! Same goes for when you want to close it. Just think 'I need to close the door' or something similar, wave your hand at it, and poof! It's gone.

"The gloves _have_ to be worn as they are the only ones that would enable you to open the doorway. The cuffs actually have magnets in them that connect them to the sleeves of the coat, signalling to the technology in the coat that you're good to go. Once the gloves are on, you have to connect these toggles at the base of the hood together as these function as the ON/OFF switch that indicate that you can access the doorway to the Corridor of Darkness as well as release micro-soundwaves that repel Heartless while you're inside the Corridor.

"If you're wondering if it works, all I can say about that is that my lovely assistant and I just went through it, and here we are, standing in front of you safe and sound as proof.

"Now, do you have any questions?"

The blond waved his hand enthusiastically in the air. "I do! I do!"

Hope nodded. "Yes?"

Demyx looked to Claire. "Are you his girlfriend?" Unsuccessfully muffled snickers erupted from the other audience members while Hope ran a hand over his face.

The lone woman in the room, however, stiffened, an eyebrow arching over a cold blue eye as she directed a harsh glare towards the musician, bristling as she put a hand on her hip. _What's up with that automatic assumption?_ she thought. Just because she arrived here with Hope did not mean they were together, especially in _that_ way.

The silver-haired so-called inventor laughed nervously. "Questions about the coat is what I meant."

"Fine." The blond rolled his eyes, this time addressing Hope. "Is the one wearing the coat over there your girlfriend?"

Claire had half a mind to step over and seriously wreak grievous bodily harm to that rather curious fellow, the other half wanting to do the same to her temporary employer for not answering the question directly. She didn't really know what to make of his avoidance of the subject, nor of the warm flutter in her belly at his refusal to deny it. She brushed the feeling off, attributing it to her growing hunger and purposely retrieved her earlier frustration and annoyance. _What's wrong with just outright saying 'No, she's not my girlfriend. Now can we please get on with the coats?'_ The hand not on her hip began to form a fist.

She found Hope's lack of frustration at this turn of questioning rather suspicious, although she couldn't help the small laugh that huffed out of her in a breath when he replied:

"She's a model, _in potentia_, for House of Paddra. Now can we please get on with the coats?"

Uncannily, as one each spectator tilted his head to the side and perused her.

"_'In potentia?'_ Potentially? What do you mean?" This time, the one who spoke was the supposed blacksmith. "I thought _I_ was going to scout for models."

Chagrined, Hope gave Claire a sidelong, apologetic glance as he scratched the back of his head. "I just saw her out in the walkway on my way over here and thought she was perfect for the part."

Once again in peculiar unison, this time their audience tilted their heads to the other side, letting out a collective chorus of _hmm'_s as they did so. Her eyes narrowed, feeling like an object being scrutinized under a microscope as each began to comment about her.

"Great find," said the redhead.

The smirking silver-haired cousin merely gave her a thumb's up of approval.

"Yeah, I can see she's got a certain oomph to her," contributed the blond. "She definitely fits the look your brand's going for. But the hair, though. Needs work."

Claire resisted the urge to smooth out the frizzy wavy nest on top of her head. Sure, it didn't look like she had the usual mop of pink dandelions for hair since she had brushed it to something manageable and tamed it into a bun this morning for the job interview but he really had no right to judge. Who did his hair anyway? Why did he think it was good idea to pair a Mohawk with a mullet?

In an effort to redirect the focus from further commentary on appearances, the blacksmith addressed Claire with the subject he felt was the most important for their project: "What kind of weapons have you handled?"

She started, then offhandedly replied with a shrug, "Guns...blades..."

A thoughtful look came over his brow as he nodded. "Guns and blades, huh. Sounds good. Vague enough to lend a lot of versatility. Princess Ashe of Dalmasca apparently was trained to use lots of different kinds of weapons, so that's really good. Gives our group an edge in whatever direction we may take weapon-wise."

She released a frustrated exhale. "I haven't said yes to modeling for House of Paddra."

"Oh. O-kay." Noel was taken aback, a slight frown on his brow. "Why not?"

She gave another shrug. "Never modeled before. Might turn out to be not my thing."

"So what are you doing here then?"

She pointed to Hope with a shoulder. "He said he'll buy me lunch if I think about it and if I helped with getting the coats here."

"Aha!" exclaimed Lea with a clap. "So you're his girlfriend _in potentia_!" He looked around, grinning like a loon. "Did I use that word right?" He glanced at Hope, teasingly shaking his head. "What a way to pick up girls. Just offer them modeling careers out of the blue to get them to date you."

"Ahem." Hope cleared his throat and attempted to steer the discussion away from potential danger. "So about the coats..."

"Ah, forget about the damn coats. Yeah, yeah, we saw it work. It looks great. Riku's gonna be paying so send the bill to him. Now, that's out of the way, you and her are much more entertaining. So details. Spill."

"We just met—" started Hope.

"—This is a job, _in potentia_, as you all like to say for some reason—" elaborated Claire, grumbling as she rolled her eyes.

"—And we'll be having a lunch meeting about the possible job of modeling for House of Paddra—"

"—Which I might not even take the more I hang out here—"

He turned to her, a sound akin to a kicked puppy coming out of him.

"Did you just whine like a dog?" asked his cousin, sputtering out a laugh.

Hope scoffed. "Pshaw. What. Did no such thing. Ahahaha ha."

"Really subtle, cuz," muttered Riku with a smirk.

"Shut up," mumbled Hope, sotto voce.

The pink-haired woman crossed her arms over her chest, choosing to ignore the exchange between the cousins. "Can we just finish up with coats, please?"

"Er, right. Sorry." House of Paddra's engineer cleared his throat. "So. Any questions? About the coats and nothing else pertaining to anyone's modeling career _in potentia_?"

A chorus of disappointment echoed from the clients.

"Alright." Hope rubbed his hands together. "So, I guess the coats are good to go for you guys, then?" Seeing variations of nods and shrugs in response, he clapped his hands. "Great. Thanks very much for your patience. Meeting adjourned."

And with that, as the band dispersed and converged into their own conversations, Hope divested himself of the coat and proceeded to carefully inspect it, tucking the matching gloves into one of the pockets before placing them into the garment bag.

Claire followed suit, being careful with how she handled the garment since from the look of things it seemed to have been a costly thing to make, and she was loath to damage it as she didn't exactly have the kind of gil to be able to afford repairing it or having another made to replace it. There were rent, groceries, and Serah's college fund for her to contend with, and she could barely make ends meet even with the three jobs she had.

Setting the garment bag with the others on the desk at the front of the classroom, she turned, now seeing the two silver-haireds with their phones held out, no doubt concluding the transaction via online banking, the other Paddra member with the brown hair looking over Hope's shoulder, then both shaking Riku's hand as the transaction seemed to have been successful.

She turned again as she heard a scuffle behind her, the blond and the redhead picking over who got which coat.

"Yeah!" exclaimed the blond, clutching a garment bag to his chest. "I get to smell like her. She smells like roses." Feeling her gaze, he turned and gave her a wink, to which she could only respond with a huff and a roll of her eyes.

"Yeah, well, I get to smell like Hope," countered the redhead rather smugly, sending a smirk her way as well as a wiggle of his eyebrows towards said young man.

At that, a funny little flutter shook her stomach while at the same time annoyance weighed on her chest. _Fine, whatever_, she thought, crossing her arms as she faced the silver-haired in question. _Of all times to be wracked by teenage hormones. I don't have time for that_. Which was true. She and Serah had been orphaned just as Claire became a teenager. Beset with the sudden responsibility for another life, she'd had to grow up fast and had to skip out on that period of life that Serah was now actively and enthusiastically participating in. From what she'd been seeing of her sister's behaviour, she was actually glad for not having to go through it. It sometimes drove her crazy with Serah as it was. But the sudden infliction of crushing on someone—she could really do without that.

_This is business, Claire_, she told herself. _Strictly business. He's paying me, so this is definitely not a date. Just work. Nothing else_.

But she couldn't stop the warmth that spread through her as she watched Hope walking her way, the sight of the smile on his lips making her pulse jump.

"Ready for lunch?" he asked.

Schooling her features into a mask of impassiveness, she shrugged and mumbled, "Sure."

Then, amidst catcalls and wolf-whistles, they left the classroom and its annoying occupants. But not before she flipped them the bird. Only to be answered by their laughter, much to her dismay.

Though half of her figured it was well worth it to see Hope's reddened ears.

* * *

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy belongs to Square Enix. Kingdom Hearts belongs to Square Enix and Disney.

A/N: So just wanna let you guys know this isn't really a straight-up crossover. I'm just borrowing characters and terms from Kingdom Hearts and other Final Fantasy titles, such as:

Princess Ashe - a playable character from FFXII

Dalmasca - a country in FFXII

Demyx - a character from Kingdom Hearts

Lea (aka Axel, aka Flurry of Dancing Flames (origin of the band name)) - another character from KH

Riku - a playable character from KH

Organization XIII - the group that Axel/Lea and Demyx belonged to in KH (and the coat they wore was said to protect them from darkness)

Corridor of Darkness - the place/thing that members of Organization XIII use to travel in KH

Thanks for reading/favouriting/subscribing/reviewing :)  
Oct/2013


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